


under the milky way tonight

by penceypineapple



Series: idiots in love [4]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Ambassador Sokka (Avatar), Day Four: Southern Water Tribe, Established Relationship, Firelord Zuko (Avatar), Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Nightmares, Past Child Abuse, Post-Canon, Zukka Week 2021, Zuko (Avatar) Gets a Hug, Zuko (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Zuko is insecure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 16:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30108600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penceypineapple/pseuds/penceypineapple
Summary: “I’m pretty sure this is the most nervous I’ve felt in my life,” Zuko admits. “We’ve talked about our future before, so I know he’ll say yes. But still. It’s scary.”Hakoda smiles. “That’s completely normal. It’s such a huge occasion, and such a big step in your relationship. If you’re not nervous, then you’re not human.”Or: Zuko takes Sokka to the Southern Water Tribe. Sokka thinks it’s just a vacation, but Zuko has other plans. To ask Sokka to marry him.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: idiots in love [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2213031
Comments: 10
Kudos: 99





	under the milky way tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Zukka Week Day 4: Southern Water Tribe  
> Hope you enjoy! :)

Zuko doesn’t know when he first realised Sokka was the one. The one for him. The person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

The person he wanted to marry.

Maybe he’s always known. Maybe it’s something deep, something hazy and unbelievably strong vibrating through his soul, branches rippling out and displacing his reality. Maybe that’s why none of his relationships ever succeeded in the past – images of Jin and Mai appear and dissolve before his eyes like the light from a flickering candle. It was his fault those relationships never worked out, for he always found himself pushing them away, but he couldn’t pinpoint why, and didn’t know how to stop it ( _I feel like I’m the only one trying anymore_ , Mai had said to him, eyes full of sorrow). Maybe he had pushed people away because he was always meant to be with Sokka.

The door to their bedroom creaks open, Sokka’s soft voice drawing him out of his head and back into the present. “You all packed?”

_Shit._

He grabs the betrothal necklace and shoves it into his overnight bag, zipping it shut even though he’s far from finished packing for their vacation to the Southern Water Tribe, half folded clothes still strewn across the floor. After a stressful month at the palace, filled with seemingly endless meetings and planning and budgeting, Zuko had decided to schedule a vacation to the Southern Water Tribe with Sokka, to get away from all the stress and spend some time with Sokka’s family. That’s what he told Sokka, anyway. Zuko has other ideas, other plans, plans that make his hands shake and his heart race in sheer anticipation.

“Almost packed,” is what comes out of his mouth, voice a little shaky as Sokka comes into the room, kneeling by his side and peering at Zuko’s very empty looking bag, sitting there on the floor like a deflated balloon. _Shit shit shit shit shit -_

Sokka laughs, a high pitched, almost musical tune that brings happiness to Zuko’s day like a gleam of soft sunlight. In the year following the war, Sokka never laughed. Neither of them did. Which is why he’ll never take hearing his boyfriend’s laugh for granted again.

“ _Almost_ packed?” Sokka said, a glimmer of amusement lighting up his blue eyes. “It looks like you’ve barely started.”

“It won’t take long,” he assures Sokka, trying to gently guide him away from this topic of conversation. “Give me ten minutes, and I’ll be done.”

“I can help,” Sokka insists, grabbing a pair of fuzzy blue winter socks (Zuko’s twenty-first birthday present from Sokka). He then reaches for Zuko’s overnight bag, about to zip it open-

“Wait!” His hand reaches out and grasps Sokka’s wrist, stopping him from zipping the bag open. He doesn’t intend for his tone to come out so frantic, but it’s too late. “Uh, I just realised I don’t have a winter coat. Could I borrow one of yours?”

Sokka flashed him a perplexed look, but it quickly faded. “Sure. Realised regulating your temperature isn’t enough?”

Last year, when they had visited the tribe, Zuko insisted he didn’t need to bring a coat _(I’m a firebender, I’m already warm)._ Little did he know, it was a particularly harsh winter that year, and they had arrived just in time for a massive snow-storm. He was usually fine regulating his temperature in short bursts, but he didn’t expect having to do it for three days straight. By the third day, he had no energy left to continue the fiery warmth erupting in his chest. He was weak. He was exhausted. But most of all, he was cold.

“You’re bringing a jacket next time,” Sokka had said to him as they huddled together inside their tent. “Not that I mind warming you up.”

The storm continued to rage outside, freezing cold wind howling through the night, heavy snow falling endlessly from the dark sky. Sokka was warm and snug inside his jacket, while Zuko was wrapped in four layers of blankets and still shivering in his boyfriend’s arms.

He rolled his eyes. But his lips, dry and chapped from the cold, were turned upwards into a small smile. “Fine.”

Now, much to Zuko’s relief, Sokka rises to his feet. “I’ll go grab a jacket for you.”

As soon as Sokka ducks out of their bedroom, Zuko zips his bag back open. He takes the betrothal necklace and wraps it inside one of his shirts inside the bag, where he hopes Sokka won’t see it. That’s all he can do before a muffled voice says something to him on his left, and a big, heavy jacket lands on his head.

“So much for that _fast reaction time_ you’re always bragging about.” Sokka sits next to him on the floor again, flashing him a smile as he pulls the jacket off Zuko’s head, tossing it into the pile of unpacked clothes.

“You were on my left.” His tone comes off flatter than intended as he picks up a pile of shirts and places it into his bag. Although he’s grown to be at peace with his limitations over the years, those subtle reminders that he can’t hear, see, or feel much on the left side of his face makes him sad. It’s a deep sadness, one nearly impossible to identify or describe, one that consumes his entire being for a second, and then it’s gone again, reduced to nothing more than a vague heaviness that constantly swirls around his head like a sheet of grey fog.

“Oh. Sorry,” Sokka says, voice also a little sad, as if somehow he’s feeling exactly what Zuko is feeling.

Maybe it’s sorrow he’s experiencing. Maybe it’s sorrow for a face he could have had, for he had lost something a child should never have had to lose. Although he recognises the scar as part of his identity, dating Sokka has only unravelled another heap of insecurities surrounding the mark on his face. He always wonders if Sokka would find him more attractive without the scar. If Sokka ever wishes his boyfriend’s scar would disappear. Of course, he’d never ask Sokka this, for he knows Sokka would only deny it. But he still wonders.

He shakes his head. “It’s okay.”

Sometimes, when he’s awake in the middle of the night, he lights a candle, stands in front of the mirror, and covers up the left side of his face with his hand. If only the smooth skin on his right could be mirrored across to his left. If only his left eye could mimic his right, and not be constantly swollen half-shut and distorted into a narrow glare. He finds himself begging for it, begging for the scar to be gone, for his sake, but most of all, for Sokka’s sake.

“What are you doing?” Sokka had asked him once, almost catching him in the act. Luckily, his back had been turned to their bed, so it was unlikely that Sokka had seen what he had been doing.

He’d quickly retracted his hand, and slipped back into bed beside Sokka. “Nothing.”

They lapse into a peaceful silence as Zuko finishes off his packing, zipping his bag shut. It’s getting late now, and he yawns, tiredness overcoming his body, but not touching his mind. He knows he won’t be able to sleep tonight. While Sokka snores softly beside him, oblivious to it all, Zuko will remain wide awake, staring at the shadows on the walls, waiting for the sun to rise. He’ll shake and tremble and maybe it’ll be hard to breathe as his mind thrusts itself into the nearing future. To when he explains his wish to Hakoda, _I want to spend the rest of my life with your son_. To when he takes Sokka out on a walk across the icy tundra, to see the Southern Lights, the flickering shades of green, blue, and pink illuminating the sky. To when he pulls the necklace from his pocket. To when he gets down on one knee. To when he delivers the speech that he has spent hours rehearsing. To when he awaits Sokka’s response. 

He’s fucking terrified.

“Goodnight,” he says, kissing Sokka on the lips before reaching over and blowing out the candle by his bedside, plunging the room into darkness. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

* * *

They leave the Fire Nation early the following morning, and arrive at the Southern Water Tribe well after the sun has dipped below the horizon. Zuko usually feels calmer, more at ease, when his boots make contact with the snowy ground. When the crisp air drifts through his nostrils, cool and soothing in his lungs. But today, he doesn’t. Today, as Hakoda, Gran-Gran, Katara, and the rest of the tribe rush over to greet them, he’s on the verge of a breakdown. He has been for the past few days, and he knows it won’t stop until Sokka is holding the betrothal necklace in his hands and the Southern Lights are illuminating the night sky. His chest is tight, his head and heart haven’t stopped pounding since yesterday, and he’s thankful he’s wearing Sokka’s blue mittens because otherwise everyone would see his trembling fingers.

But he hides it well. He sits by the fire with Sokka, eating dinner with the tribe and recounting all the drama and stories from the palace, the steady light from the campfire warming his body and yet his mind remains cold and frantic. He needs to hide his panic well, for he doesn’t want Sokka thinking there’s anything wrong. He doesn’t want Sokka asking questions _(Are you okay? What’s wrong?)._ For he won’t be able to tell Sokka the truth, and that will hurt more than anything else. He just needs to wait.

But he catches Hakoda eyeing him from across the campfire as Sokka tells everyone about the new university opening in the Fire Nation Capital. He wonders if Hakoda is able to sense his fear, his nervousness, the way he curls his hands into fists to stop the shaking, the way his eyes dart from side to side, the way he bounces his leg up and down, the way his shoulders remain hunched as if he’s trying to make himself look as small as possible, something he used to do as a child and has never grown out of. Hakoda been able to sense his fearful mannerisms before, back when he was sixteen at the Western Air Temple, so why not now? Why not now, when they’re both so much older, when so much has changed yet Zuko’s nervous habits remain as consistent as the sun rising, as the tides rising and falling, as the phases of the moon?

He had been scared of Hakoda, at first. He didn’t know Hakoda, he couldn’t predict the way he would act, the way he would behave, as a father. He’d watched from a distance as Sokka and Katara hugged Hakoda, trying to judge whether he was a kind father like Iroh, or a cruel father like Ozai. Although he quickly judged that Hakoda was kind and meant no harm, his first instincts still thought otherwise. And although no words were ever exchanged between them, there was always a deep, almost sorrowful look of knowing in Hakoda’s eyes, as if he had some sort of sixth sense, some way of deciphering Zuko’s seemingly irrational responses of fear.

And now, the same look of knowing is glimmering through Hakoda’s blue eyes, blue like the ocean and the sky, blue like Sokka’s eyes. But this time, he doesn’t appear sad. There’s a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he looks at Zuko from across the campfire. Maybe he knows. Maybe he’s already guessed what Zuko is planning on doing. For years now, everyone has been ‘joking’ about Zuko and Sokka getting married. At least once a month there’s a newspaper article in the _Fire Nation Weekly_ dedicated to the subject, filled with endless speculation and various “expert opinions” on whether Fire Lord Zuko was finally going to get engaged to Ambassador Sokka.

“These people should find a different hobby,” Zuko had said last summer, tossing his copy of the _Fire Nation Weekly_ onto the floor as dramatically as possible and laying back down on the couch. Unfortunately, the newspaper’s latest issue happened to come out when the entire Gaang was visiting the palace, and they all managed to get their hands on a copy, interrogating him about the alleged ‘proposal’ and whether or not it was actually true.

In the article, a random member of the public (with absolutely no connections to the royal family) was claiming that he knew inside information about Fire Lord Zuko’s engagement. That he had witnessed Fire Lord Zuko purchasing a ring from a market stall. Of course, Zuko knew this was completely fake, because he wasn’t even planning on proposing with a ring. He was going to make Sokka a betrothal necklace instead, to honour the traditions of the Southern Water Tribe.

“But what if it’s actually true, and Zuko’s just trying to cover it up?” Katara asked jokingly, giving Zuko a playful nudge.

_“It’s not true!”_ Zuko protested a little too forcefully. “Do you guys really think I’m that stupid? That I’d go outside shopping for a ring, in front of everyone at a fucking _market stall?_ If I was actually planning on proposing, I’d be smarter about it.”

“So you’re not planning on getting engaged?” Toph asked, a smile on her face. “At all? Ever?”

“No, I didn’t say that!” Zuko knew everyone was joking, but he still felt himself getting annoyed and overly defensive. Because he actually was planning on proposing, but didn’t want to ruin the surprise. But he also didn’t want Sokka to think he had no intention of marrying him ever.

“Guys, come on. Stop interrogating him,” Aang said, flashing Zuko an empathetic look. With that, everyone stopped, and moved on to chatting and joking about other things, things not related to Zuko and his alleged plan on proposing to Sokka. He understood the Gaang’s excitement, for when he and Sokka did eventually get engaged, they would be the first couple in their friend group to do so. But he still didn’t want to slip up and say the wrong thing in front of them, accidentally exposing himself. So he sat there in silence, choosing to say as little as possible regarding the subject.

But that was months ago. Back then, he only had a vague idea of what his proposal would entail. But now, he has finalised every single detail. He knows exactly when it will happen. Tomorrow evening. He knows exactly where it will happen. Beneath the Southern Lights, the moon, the stars. He knows what he will say. He has an elaborate speech memorised, and yet he knows he’ll probably stuff it up anyway when he’s down on one knee with a racing heart and shaking hands, almost dropping the necklace into the snow.

It’ll probably be a disaster, no matter how hard he tries to make it perfect. All he can do is hope that Sokka will accept him regardless of his mistakes, his faults, his disasters.

One night, a year into their relationship, he had sat Sokka down and told him everything about his past, his unspeakable childhood, the trauma he still dealt with every day. Zuko had begun his story at the very beginning, his first ever memory at four years old, where he had witnessed his mother and father having a heated argument. They had been arguing about _him_. Their yells echoed through the walls of the palace. And there Zuko sat, outside the master bedroom, with his ear pressed against the red and golden door, listening to every word his father uttered. Every word that already deemed him weak, pathetic, useless, a failure.

_He’s a non-bender. I know you can’t see it, Ursa, but I can. There’s no spark in his eyes._

_It doesn’t matter. He’s still our baby. We’ll still love him no matter what. Won’t we?_

_I don’t think you understand how shameful it is. The Fire Lord himself, having a non-bender as his firstborn son? I can’t allow it._

_What do you mean ‘can’t allow it?’ It’s not like Zuko can change it, and it’s not like you can change it either._

_I can. I’ll have him thrown out of the palace at once. Nobody has to know. It can be covered up. Like he never existed in the first place._

_You can’t do that! He’s our son, for crying out loud! But you don’t seem to care about that. You don’t seem to care about anyone but yourself…_

_Do you love him?_ Ursa had asked, all anger dissolving away from her voice, dissolving into sorrow. _Do you love your son?_

Ozai never responded to that question.

That night, little four year old Zuko had cried himself to sleep for the first time.

“At least I ended up being a bender, huh?” Zuko said to Sokka after telling the story of his earliest memory.

Sokka smiled weakly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. Lucky you.” Sokka seemed drained by Zuko’s stories. There were dark circles under his eyes, like he had been staying up all night thinking about what had happened to his boyfriend as a child, things he had been completely unaware of. Zuko imagined Sokka thinking, _why didn’t he tell me sooner? How could he lie to me, all these years?_

The stories also drained Zuko’s energy, drained his emotions. He felt completely empty afterwards, like the air had been sucked out of his lungs, like all thoughts and feelings had been removed from his mind. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t talk. He couldn’t move. All he wanted to do was go to sleep and forget everything. But his dreams, they were the worst part of it all. Of all this recounting, retelling, re-experiencing, _reliving_. The dreams were terrible and the most vivid they had ever been since his painful years on the ship. Luckily, he had Sokka by his side, to hold him tight and remind him that he was okay _(You’re okay. It’s just a dream. It’s over. You’re safe. I’ve got you)_.

It had taken days, unravelling his past to Sokka. On and on the stories went, weaving through his painful childhood, every past hurt, every mistake that he had made, every time he had been lied to, manipulated, bullied, and flat-out abused. He told stories of Azula bullying him for not being as good as she was, for being such a slow learner, so clumsy, so weak, so stupid. Of his father, who had burned the backs of his hands every time he made a mistake. Of his mother, who protected and loved him one day, and then disappeared without a trace the next.

Eventually, he got to the story of how he got his scar. Sokka had held his hand through the whole thing, and allowed him to pause and take a break whenever he needed to. Sokka didn’t say much. He simply sat there on the bed beside Zuko, taking it all in, just listening. Just being there. Trying to conceal the tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Zuko had said afterwards, eyes full of tears. “I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. I know this is a lot to take in, and I understand if you want to leave.”

_“Leave?”_ Sokka repeated the word like Zuko was being completely crazy, unreasonable. “Zuko, no. _No_. I don’t want to leave. That’s the last thing I want to do right now.”

_I will never let you go._

And Sokka never did.

* * *

“I’d better unpack,” Sokka announces, standing up and touching Zuko on the shoulder. “Feel free to stay out here for a bit.”

He nods. As soon as Sokka’s disappeared across the camp and into their tent, he turns his head back to Hakoda, who’s still sitting across from him at the campfire.

“Uh, can I talk to you about something?” he asks. Even at twenty-five, his social awkwardness still decides to show itself in certain situations where he’s uncomfortable, where he’s fearing being judged, and sometimes just out of the blue against all rational judgement.

He’s already told Uncle Iroh about his planned proposal. It went just as he expected, with Iroh wrapping his nephew into a tight hug, tears of pride and joy collecting in his eyes. But he imagines telling Sokka’s dad will be a little harder. More nerve-wracking, more difficult to muster up the courage. But he knows he has to do it, and right now could be the only opportunity he’ll ever get.

Hakoda gets up and sits down next to Zuko, seeming to instantly sense that something isn’t quite right. “You alright?”

He stares into the campfire, focusing on the way the flames dance through the night sky, for it’s too hard to even look into Hakoda’s eyes. He knows his fear is irrational. He knows Hakoda has always been fully supportive of their relationship, and always will be. But he’s still afraid. He’s still afraid, and he hates it.

He looks up from the fire, meeting Hakoda’s eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath as he begins. “I’ve decided to – decided to ask your son to marry me. I love him. I love him and I respect him, and I want to spend the rest of my life with him. I-I also made a betrothal necklace, but I don’t know if I did it right,” he says shakily, pulling the necklace out of his pocket and showing it to Hakoda. The little speech he gave came out all wrong, and he was so nervous that he stuttered and stumbled his way through it. But he managed to do it, and that’s all that matters.

Hakoda’s eyes light up as they look down at the necklace, the fire illuminating their deep blue. He pulls Zuko into a tight hug. “It’s beautiful, Zuko. I’m so proud of you both, and I’ve always known how perfect you are for each other. You make him so happy.”

Zuko laughs nervously. “I’m glad.”

“When are you proposing?” Hakoda asks, pulling out of the hug.

“Tomorrow night. I’m going to take him out on a walk to see the Southern Lights, so long as the weather’s good.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Hakoda says with a smile. “No snowstorms on the way, as far as I know. The sky has been very clear lately.”

“That’s good. I’m pretty sure this is the most nervous I’ve felt in my life,” he admits. “We’ve talked about our future before, so I know he’ll say yes. But still. It’s scary.”

Hakoda smiles. “That’s completely normal. It’s such a huge occasion, and such a big step in your relationship. I’d think if you’re not nervous, then you’re not human.” 

He nods. “Thanks so much, Hakoda. For everything.”

That night, he returns to his tent with Sokka and slips into bed, wrapping his arms around Sokka’s shoulders. He doesn’t even bother to unpack his things, for it doesn’t even cross his mind. He’s so tired, and yet so anxious and jittery at the same time. He holds onto Sokka tight, as if he’s afraid that Sokka will disappear if he lets go. Disappear into the night sky, into the wind, like smoke.

Like his mother.

Sokka rolls over and turns to face him with wide, concerned eyes. “Are you okay?”

It’s such a simple question, but it’s a question they’ve asked each other hundreds of times since the war ended. Because although the war is over physically, it’s never over in their hearts. It still haunts them. But now, as Sokka utters the question into the empty air, Zuko can’t be honest. He can’t tell Sokka why he’s struggling, for that would involve ruining the surprise of the proposal. And he’s not prepared to do that. He must lie.

“I’m okay,” he says, but he knows it won’t be enough. Sokka has never believed him in the past, so there’s no reason why he will now. He must give more information. “I’ve just been… stressed lately.”

“Fire Lord stuff?” Sokka prompts with a smile. _‘Fire Lord stuff’_ has become code word for drowning in endless paperwork and documents, staying up all night, signing treaties, negotiating with politicians, the sneaky twenty-minute naps during his lunch break, and the exhausting council meetings that always leaves Zuko completely drained afterwards. But Zuko also finds himself dismissing lots of things as simply ‘Fire Lord stuff’ when he simply doesn’t have the energy to talk about what’s bothering him, or he’s worried of bringing back painful memories. He knows that Sokka understands this.

“Yeah,” he says awkwardly, leaning back against the pillows. “Fire Lord stuff.” At that moment, he’s reminded of how terrible at lying he really is.

Sokka reaches out through the dark and grasps Zuko’s hand. “You been eating? Sleeping?”

“Yeah,” he lies. He can’t remember the last time he had a good night’s sleep, but it must have been weeks ago. “Trust me Sokka, I’m good. I’ll be fine.”

Sokka opens his mouth, as if he’s about to say something, to force Zuko to talk, but then he closes it again, opting to instead utter a simple, “I’m here for you if you need me, okay?”

It’s something he always says, in response to Zuko’s silence.

“Okay.”

With that, Zuko rolls back over, so his back is facing Sokka. It’s the only position he’s ever been able to sleep in, with his scarred side pressed down against the pillow, right side facing up so he’s still able to see and hear any potential dangers that could arise during the night. Warm arms wrap around his waist and he’s being pulled into Sokka’s embrace, feeling safe and secure. He lets out a deep sigh and allows the tiredness, the heaviness, to drag him into the depths of unconsciousness. He knows he might not be able to sleep for long, and he might wake up in the middle of the night in a panic, but he knows he mustn’t fight the desire to sleep now.

For the sooner he falls asleep, the sooner tomorrow will come.

* * *

_“Will you marry me?” He asks, golden eyes full of hope. He’s down on one knee, and the Southern Lights are illuminating the sky of the icy Antarctic tundra. It couldn’t be more perfect._

_But Sokka’s eyes are pools of sadness, filled with sorrow and doubt. “Zuko, I-I…” his voice is full of hesitation, as his words come out as barely a whisper. “I can’t.”_

_His heart drops. It drops from the sky and descends down through the shadows, shattering and dissolving into the night sky. He blinks away his tears (this isn’t happening this can’t be happening I thought he’d say yes, why isn’t he saying yes?)._

_“Why not?”_

_Sokka remains unresponsive for a long while. He stands there, teary eyes flickering down to his feet, up at the bright night sky, anywhere but Zuko’s face._

_“We’re so young,” is what eventually comes out of Sokka’s mouth. It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make any sense._

_“But we’ve been together so long,” he protests. He’s still on one knee, holding the betrothal necklace in his trembling hands. He’s shaking, but not from the cold wind sweeping through the dry air. He’s begging, pleading. He needs to know what the real reason is._

_Sokka hesitates for a long while before speaking, his words slow and careful. “Zuko, I love you. But I’m not in love with you. I don’t see this relationship going any further. We’re young, and we’re dating. It’s not this… serious. It never was, and it never will be. I’m sorry.”_

_Zuko opens his mouth, but no words come out. Sokka’s gone, gone forever and it’s all Zuko’s fault. He doesn’t understand, he wants to scream at the night sky. But the night sky says nothing as it looks down at him, stars twinkling at him mockingly through the dark. He hurls the betrothal necklace as far away as possible and watches it disappear into the heavy snow, never to be seen again. He collapses to the ground, tears streaming down his face as he struggles to catch his breath._

_The snow is falling down heavier now, the wind picks up as it swirls around Zuko’s body, chilling his heart and freezing his soul, threatening to carry him away forever. He’s alone. He’s alone, he always was, and he always will be._

_How had he been so wrong, after all these years?_

_Had he really read all the signals, all the signs, so incorrectly?_

_Was he really that naïve, to fall in love with someone who had no intention of staying with him forever?_

_It’s all his fault._

* * *

His eyes shoot open with a jolt, and it takes him a few seconds to ground himself, something he always does after the dreams, something he’s been doing since he was thirteen and trapped inside his own head every day. Sokka’s still sound asleep beside him, he’s breathing softly and he’s asleep and they’re still together _and Sokka still loves you, he will always love you and he’ll never leave you_. The air is cool and clear as it sweeps through the tent, and it must be almost sunrise, for he can see the first glimmers of the sun’s morning rays illuminating their tent, warming his heart. The mattress beneath him is soft as he lies back down against it, soft and inviting _and you’re safe_. He’s going to propose to Sokka today. Today is the day he’s going to do it, it hasn’t happened already and Sokka never said no _and he still loves you, he will say yes, he will_.

Luckily, he manages to calm himself down without waking Sokka up, without requiring Sokka’s help. But he knows he won’t be able to go back to sleep. He needs to get out of bed, to do something to put his mind at ease. Meditating is the only thing he can think of. He’s glad Sokka’s a heavy sleeper as he slips out of the tent, sitting down just outside the camp and attempting to breathe deeply and clear his head. But it doesn’t work, and he ends up sitting there for half an hour rehearsing what he’s going to say during the proposal instead, even though he’s already gone through the speech hundreds of times.

The day passes in a blur. Although it’s supposed to be a fun day of catching up with Sokka’s family and friends, Zuko can’t get out of his own head, like he’s barely even processing what’s going on in the outside world. The fear, the nervousness, has been gradually building ever since he woke up, until now that it’s reached a near unbearable level. Luckily, he manages to conceal his nervousness fairly well, and nobody asks him if he’s okay. Even Katara, who’s usually very perceptive to his wide range of emotions, says nothing, and doesn’t even shoot him her usual sympathetic look. He’s gotten better at hiding his emotions, over the years.

After lunch, he finds Sokka sitting by the campfire, warming his hands. Although the skies are clear and blue, the weather has still been freezing and windy, and Zuko can feel it through his chapped lips and his scar, which has become extremely dry and achy in the cold. He takes a deep breath and attempts to use his firebending to increase his internal temperature, but it’s no use. His mind is too turbulent, too anxious, not focused enough. 

“Hey, Sokka?” he says, sitting down on the log next to his boyfriend. “I was wondering if you wanted to go on a walk with me tonight? I was thinking we could go somewhere to see the Southern Lights? If you want to, of course. We don’t have to go if you don’t want to, but I think it would be nice.”

“That’s a great idea,” Sokka replies, gently putting an end to Zuko’s anxious rambling with a kiss on the cheek and an arm around his shoulder. “I’d love to.”

“Good,” he says, relieved. “I mean, um, I’m glad that you want to.” He wants to cringe at his own words, at his own awkwardness. He knows Sokka that thinks it’s cute, but his awkwardness still remains an aspect about himself that he despises. He sees it as some sort of deficiency, some sort of deep-rooted weakness he’ll never be able to overcome, one that will define his life forever. As a teenager, he had hoped to grow out of it, but now at twenty-five, it isn’t looking too promising. He knows people judge him for it. Politicians, council members, the press, the general public, and even his friends and family must judge him for it, and he hates it.

Sokka smiles. “This holiday will be good for us, I think. It’s good to get away from the palace and the stress for a while.”

“Yeah. It’ll be good.”

But what Sokka doesn’t know is that this trip to the Southern Water Tribe is going to be more than just _‘good’_. It’s going to be life-changing. Here, on the icy tundra, in the cold Antarctic breeze, they’ll together cross a line they’ll never be able to return from.

Their relationship, as well as the course of their lives, will be changed forever.

_In a good way, let’s hope,_ Zuko thinks, fiddling with the necklace inside his pocket, bouncing his leg up and down in an attempt to relieve his anxious tension.

“Does he make you happy?” Uncle Iroh had asked him, on the day he had told everyone about his relationship with Sokka. Although it had been nerve-wracking, he and Sokka were met with nothing but love and support for their relationship.

A big smile appeared on Zuko’s face, and he said, “Yeah. He does. He makes me really happy.”

* * *

Zuko waits in anticipation for hours, until it’s time for their walk. The Southern Lights illuminate the sky, decorating the stars in a glow of pink and gold.

“It’s beautiful,” Sokka says, lifting his face to the stars and taking in the view.

“Yeah. It’s beautiful,” Zuko replies as they stop to look up at the night sky, trying to hide the trembling of his voice. He shoves his shaking hands inside his pockets so Sokka won’t suspect anything’s wrong.

He had a long, elaborate speech but he doesn’t remember a single word of it. But it doesn’t matter. He gets down on one knee, pulls out the betrothal necklace from his pocket, and says, “Sokka, will you marry me?”

Sokka turns to him, and his face lights up. “Zuko, of course! Of course I’ll marry you.”

Zuko stands up, tears flooding his eyes, as he shakily ties the necklace around Sokka’s neck. “I had a whole speech planned, but… yeah. I was too nervous to remember any of it.”

Sokka giggles. “We’ve always been bad at speeches, haven’t we?” He looks down at the pendant on the betrothal necklace, touching it with his hand. “Did you make this yourself?”

“Yeah.”

“Zuko, it’s gorgeous. I love it.” Sokka wraps his arms around him, pulling him close, showering his cheek with kisses. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”


End file.
